(I work at a fast food restaurant that gives customers their meals for free if they have been waiting a long time. This particular day, I’ve been told to void the next couple of cars. One girl in her 20s pulls up while talking on the phone.)

Me: “Hello! I’m sorry for your wait. Your meal is on the house.”

Customer: “Oh, really?! That’s awesome!”

Me: “There’s your meal! Have a great day.”

Customer: *into her phone* “Dude, [Restaurant] just gave me my food for free! Yeah, and it was like a six-dollar meal!” *quietly so we can’t hear* “I might be pregnant, but this just makes up for it!”

(As a game, I am trying to get my sister to guess what word I am thinking of. I am giving her plenty of hints. The word is “potato peeler”.)

Me: “You use this to remove the skin of a certain tuber.”

Sister: “Peeler?”

Me: “You have gotten one part right. Now, what is the tuber that is peeled by said peeler? We eat this all the time.”

(I am thinking that she’s totally going to get it.)

Sister: “Bananapotato?”

(I’m working the drive through on a busy night and have just handed out a customer’s order. I’m saying “goodbye” when this conversation happens.)

Customer: “Does your left hip hurt?”

Me: *confused* “No…?”

Customer: “Oh, well, how about your throat?”

Me: *wondering what my hip has to do with my throat* “Nope.”

Customer: “Oh, well, that’s good. That’s very good.”

Me: “All right, have a nice night.”

(My parents, siblings and their families and mine eat together every Friday night, taking turns hosting. Since my husband and I both work full time and have two children under 3 years old, it is often easier for us to invite everyone to a restaurant and pay for the meal, than have them over to our home. On this occasion, my sister’s visiting father-in-law has come along to the restaurant.)

Me: *to waitress* “I’ll take the bill.”

Sister’s father in law: “You’re paying?”

Me: “Yeah, this is my night to make dinner and this way I don’t have to do dishes.”

Sister’s father in law: “You’re paying for everyone?”

Me: “Yep!”

Sister’s father in law: “Well…thank you. Does your husband know?”

(I’m a waiter in a very authentic, very small Japanese restaurant. I’m filling drinks at a table of four people in their mid-twenties—two guys and two girls.)

Customer: “Um, yeah… so, I have a question.”

Me: “Sure. What would you like to know?”

Customer: “Yeah… so, like… um… Japanese… uh… Asians… do Asian people like dessert?”

Me: “Well, of course they enjoy dessert. Doesn’t everyone?”

Customer: “So, like… what do they eat, then?”

Me: “Sweet things. Cake, ice cream, candy, and all kinds of sweets.”

Customer: “Oh. So just like us?”

Me: “Yes… just like us.”

(She stares at me, unable to understand why I’m grinning in disbelief. No words are exchanged, so I walk away. As I’m walking, I hear her friend say, “Wow, he hates you.” At the end of her meal she asks for a fortune cookie.)